


Future Starts So Slow

by atsammy



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atsammy/pseuds/atsammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody looked at her, like that, like she was…  something.  Something she didn’t know the words for, but it made them all hesitate before every sentence, and she knew somehow that it had to do with that man and she wished that he would just go away and leave her alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will run _mostly_ parallel to the canon timeline from "Manhattan" through "The Miller's Daughter," and part ways after. 
> 
> Title is from "Future Starts Slow" by The Kills, from the line "I could never get back up when the future starts so slow."
> 
> Thanks to Roberre for the fantastic beta!

Rumplestiltskin stood in the deep shadows across the street from the hospital, staring at the doors as the last of the main staff left for the evening. When no one else came through them for several long minutes, he crossed the street and walked through the doors. A small flick of his fingers diverted the attention of the nurse on duty, and he repeated the action four more times on his way to the ward where Belle was sleeping. From the doorway, he watched her breathe in the faint light from the monitors around her. If he blocked out everything around him, he could almost make himself believe that she was back in his home. Only for a moment.

Before he took another step into the room, he released one more wave of magic, ensuring that she would sleep deeply for the rest of the night. He didn’t want her to wake while he was there. He could not… face her like this. By some miracle, the shattered shards of the cup still lay on the floor. He had been certain that they would have been cleared away by then. His knee ached as he forced himself to kneel down by the pieces. The pain was his punishment, his price, one of many he paid. 

He laid out his handkerchief, and gently placed the largest pieces on it. With a twitch of his fingers, he collected the remaining miniscule fragments and they joined the rest. He carefully folded the handkerchief around the pieces and tucked it back into his coat pocket. 

It took him a few minutes to stand back up, the cane both helping and hindering in the endeavor as spasms ran through his quadriceps, keeping him off balance even after he was upright. When he could finally move again, he turned once more to face the woman on the bed, and moved to stand by her bedside. He reached out a trembling hand to brush his fingers across her temple, smoothing down a strand of hair. He did not dare to kiss her, not even her cheek, even though her spelled sleep ensured that she wouldn’t awaken in a panic. Again.

He gave himself exactly one minute to watch her, to engrave the image of her face once more into his memory. When that time was up, he set a folded slip of paper onto her bedside table, and walked away. He paused in the doorway but did not turn, just long enough to quietly say, “Goodbye, Belle.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sun was already shining brightly when the woman everyone called Belle opened her eyes. Through the break in the curtain that isolated her little corner of the room, she could see people moving about on the other side of the door. The faint noises, so vastly different from what she was used to, startled her and annoyed her by turns. It was all so strange to her, all so contrary to the reality that she had known, but it had the same smell. That same, faintly acidic smell, and she wanted to be anywhere but back in this place.

She had been told the day before, before the man had come with his cup, that she would be allowed to leave this morning once the doctors had seen her one last time; while she had no idea where she would go, she was looking forward to it. Anything to get away. 

The bed was better, at least. Better than the hard pallet she’d slept on for so long, even though she’d fallen to the floor the first time she’d gotten out of it. It was so much higher than she was used to. Her shoulder still hurt, even though it was healed, and she kept forgetting not to put her weight on her left arm. Whatever the man had done had fixed the damage, but the pain still lingered, and the doctor could not explain why. She didn’t really want to think about it, either. Not the man, or his glowing hands, or his cup or his strange, nonsensical words. 

There was a sweater folded over the arm of the chair by her bed, and she slid it on as she walked towards the bathroom room. It was hers; she knew that somehow, even as she didn’t recognize it. But it was hers, the only thing that belonged to her in the whole room, and she forced herself to focus on that fact as she brushed her teeth and looked at a face that didn’t feel like hers either. She had no memories of what she looked like, and her first look in a mirror has been disconcerting. And then there was her name. Everyone kept calling her “Belle,” but she didn’t feel like a Belle. She didn’t feel like anything, and every time the man called her Belle she wanted to run as far away from it as possible. 

But there was nowhere to go. She didn’t know this place, these people who spoke to her like they knew her. Who lied to her, about the things she’d seen.

She walked back into her room and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at her feet in their white socks. Her fingers clenched around the blanket, and a noise pulled her gaze from her feet to the doorway. Someone had dropped something out in that world beyond the curtain, and the doctor who was not a doctor was standing there with the one who was, and they were both looking at her. Everybody looked at her, like that, like she was… something. Something she didn’t know the words for, but it made them all hesitate before every sentence, and she knew somehow that it had to do with that man and she wished that he would just go away and leave her alone. 

She turned away from the door, and as she was looking around the room she realized something was missing. The cup she had broken was gone, and unexpectedly she felt… sad. A sudden, heart wrenching sadness at the loss of those shattered pieces that she knew had still been there the night before, unnoticed by the last nurse who had come through before she’d slept. 

The moving hands of the clock showed it was nearly time for someone to bring her breakfast, and though she did not feel particularly hungry, she knew that she needed to make an effort if she wanted to leave. It was always the same: she needed to follow the rules, or there would be needles and darkness and eyes peering at her through tiny windows. With a sigh, she settled back against the wall behind her, the pillow a comfort against the coolness, and waited. She could still see the people walking by, but they were not looking at her anymore, and she was grateful. 

There was a water glass on the table next to her and she reached for it absently, her thoughts a jumble. When her fingers brushed against paper instead, she looked over, startled. There had been nothing but the glass there, when she had fallen asleep, but now there was a small folded piece with the name that was not hers written in an elegant hand on the top.

She picked it up carefully and unfolded it, laying it against her knees to read.

_Belle,_  
I am sorry that I frightened you.  
I am leaving town, but I will not trouble you again when I return.  
I wish you all the happiness in the world, 

_R_

It was from _him_. He had come back, it seemed, in the night when she would not see him. And still she didn’t know his name. The man who took her from her dark room had called him Mr. Gold, but that name was not right to her either, but in a different way from her own.

She was staring at the note without seeing the words when the door opened and the doctors came in. She closed her hand around it, feeling the strange urge to protect it from all other eyes. 

“Good morning, Belle,” the one with the glasses greeted her, for the first time. She had seen him, before, when she had first arrived back at the hospital, but he had never spoken to her. “I’m Dr. Hopper.”

“Hello,” she replied hesitantly. 

“How are you doing this morning?” the other one, Dr. Whale, asked her, as he had the last two mornings.

“Fine, I suppose.” Him she didn’t like, or trust. Him she remembered, coming to her dark room sometimes with the woman with the dark eyes, and then she wouldn’t remember for a while.

“How is your shoulder feeling?”

“It hurts,” she said honestly, as she had the last several times he had asked her. “Why won’t you do anything to stop the pain?” 

“That…” Dr. Whale paused, and the two men shared a look. “That is what we wanted to talk to you about. Before we let you leave.” He pulled the chair up to the side of the bed and sat, his hands clasped on his knees. “The pain you feel… normal pain killers won’t help you. The over the counter stuff isn’t strong enough or won’t affect what is causing the pain, and narcotics are not… safe. For you.”

“I don’t understand… Why not for me? Is it because of what he did?”

They shared another look, one that she could not read. 

“Belle,” Dr. Whale started, his voice soft. “When they drew blood, when you first came in, a number of tests were done. Tests that help determine treatment actions. Those tests showed hCG in your blood.”

She looked between them, confused. “I don’t know what that means,” she replied slowly.

“Well, Belle…” he paused, and for a moment she didn’t think they were going to tell her.

“It means you’re pregnant,” Dr. Hopper finished for him.

Pregnant. She knew what the word meant, though she didn’t know how she knew, and she knew what it meant had happened. How she could become pregnant. She had been told, somewhere, some when, about it, but it made no sense. “I… don’t understand,” was all she was able to say, as she felt lightheaded. 

“Before you were injured,” Dr. Whale answered, stumbling over his words, “you were in a relationship. You don’t remember, I guess, but… you _are_ pregnant. We cannot be certain without further tests just how far along you are, but you aren’t more than four months into the pregnancy at this point.” 

She looked away, around the room, down at her hands, at her stomach hidden underneath the bulky sweater. “What happens now?” she asked softly, envisioning never leaving the hospital again. They would keep her here, keep watching her. Never let her go.

“David and Snow will be here in a little while, with clothes for you. They have offered you a room with them, or they can take you to Granny’s inn. She has a room available.”

She looked up at them, startled. “I don’t have to stay? But… you said there would be more tests.”

Dr. Whale smiled at her, and it was kind and guileless and looked strange on his face. “There is one I would like to run before you leave today. It will let us determine just how far along you are, but after that you can go. Hospitals aren’t the best place for pregnant women. Ttoo many sick people. Except for check-ups, you shouldn’t need to come back here for several months.”

“Oh. Ok.” She could leave. That was the important thing. She could leave, and be alone, and figure out just what all this meant. 

“The nurse will be in shortly with breakfast and a couple bottles of water. I need you to drink it all, and don’t use the bathroom, even if you feel like you need to. I’ll be back in an hour, and we’ll do the ultrasound, and then you’ll be done. Alright?”

She nodded, and waited for them to leave. Dr. Hopper lingered in the doorway like he wanted to ask her something, but in the end he left as well, and she was alone. She unclenched her hand and looked at the slightly wrinkled paper that lay under it. When the tears tracked down her cheeks she did nothing to stop them, even as a few fell onto the ink, blurring the letters. Her other hand went to rest against her stomach, over her sweater, and she leaned back against the wall. It would never be alright.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

An hour later, she stared longingly at the bathroom, wanting the vaguely full feeling to go away. She had done as Dr. Whale had asked, and ate all the food and drank all the water. Now, she listened to the faint ticking of the clock on the wall, and wished that the doctor would come back to run his tests so she could leave. Her fingers played nervously with the knitted blankets she’d pulled back up over her legs after she’d eaten, even though the room was warm enough that she’d removed her sweater, and she pulled her gaze away from the bathroom door when a faint knocking on the glass door caught her attention.

The tall man and the woman with the short, dark hair stood awkwardly in the doorway. She had seen them before, out in the main area with the doctors, but other than that night on the road she’d never spoken with them.

“Hi,” she said uncertainly, holding the blanket tighter against her.

“Can we come in?” the woman asked, a small bag held in front of her like a shield. 

“Sure,” she said after a long moment. “Do I know you?” she asked, when they came to a stop inside the curtained barrier. 

The man nodded, when it appeared the woman would not answer. “I’m David, and this is Snow. My wife. She’s been helping you the last week or so with the library?”

“Oh.” She bit at her lip, and looked away. “Thank you?”

“We brought you some clothes?” Snow held up the bag, slightly. “We couldn’t get into your apartment, so we borrowed some from our… from the sheriff. They’ll be a bit big, but they’ll hold you over for a few days.” She set the bag on the bed beside Belle’s legs, and stepped away again. 

“Thank you, again,” Belle whispered, peeking into the bag. 

“Oh, you’re here already.” 

They turned at Dr. Whale’s voice to see him pushing in a cart through the curtain. 

“Whale.”

“David.”

“Belle, like I said, this is the last thing to be done, and then you’ll be able to leave.” 

Belle watched with growing trepidation as the doctor turned the cart around and pulled it up next to her bed. It had a large, oddly shaped box of metal, with a screen not unlike the one that had made a steady noise her first night in this room, only bigger. She shied away slightly, as the doctor moved back over to the curtains. 

“If you two would just wait out in the hall, this shouldn’t take too long.”

“I can stay with her,” Snow said, stepping around to stand next to Belle, on the other side of the bed. “If you would like me to,” she added, looking at Belle.

She didn’t know what to make of the expression on Snow’s face. It could have been confusion, or understanding, even a little sadness. She didn’t know her, not even the slightest, but in that moment she wanted her to stay.

“Please,” she whispered.

A small smile crossed Snow’s lips as she shrugged and rested her hands on the bed. Dr. Whale was ushering David out of the room, shutting the door behind him. The curtains swished shut a moment later.

“Alright. This will take a moment to set up,” he said, fiddling with buttons on the box. When the dark screen suddenly lit, he asked distractedly, “Did you drink everything with your breakfast?”

He didn’t seem to notice that she’d inched further away from him and was near to falling off the other side of the bed. “Yes… Yes I did,” she finally answered, a tremor in her voice. “What are you going to do?”

He didn’t answer right away, and she sent a pleading look at Snow.

“Whale!”

“What?” He jerked his head up. “I’m almost ready.”

“Did you ever actually deal with patients, where you are from, Whale?” Snow demanded, as she cautiously took hold of Snow’s sleeve. “What is it you are going to do?”

For the first time since he’d come back into the room, Dr. Whale appeared to focus on her. “Oh. Right.” He pulled over the rolling stool from where it had been tucked away behind the curtain, and sat down. “As I was saying earlier, while the blood tests we ran confirmed that you are pregnant, they can’t tell us how far along you are. In order to properly monitor you during the rest of the pregnancy, and for you to prepare for the birth, we need to know that length of time. This device allows us to see the embryo inside you, and determine how developed it is.”

Of anything she’d seen in the last few days, beyond even that man with the fire in his hand, she understood this least. What was this place that boxes could see inside her skin? She risked another glance up at Snow, and the lack of concern or confusion on the other woman’s face settled her, just a little. The idea didn’t seem so… fantastical, or terrifying to her, so… maybe it would be alright. And Snow would be there, would be a witness, because no matter what, she did not trust this doctor now, any more than she had when he had come to her cell with needles and poison and the woman with the dark hair and darker eyes. 

“Okay.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Alright, Belle. I need to you lie down.”

Snow watched, as Dr. Whale directed Belle first to lie down, and then to fold the edge of her hospital smock up to display her bare abdomen. Belle tensed again, when he gestured toward the pants, but after a moment she edged them down a few inches as well. Her face was bright red, with shame and fear and embarrassment clear on her features. Snow gave up any pretense she had to remain aloof, and she took Belle’s hand in her own. She’d never seen this done before, only read about it in books. It was an idea that would have seemed so odd to her, back home when she was pregnant with Emma. To see her unborn child was… a magic beyond all conception.

She wouldn’t let herself think on just whose child she would be a witness to, here. Not now. She needed to be here for Belle, who did not need this complication on top of everything else that had happened in the last few days. The repercussions of this… could wait. She hadn’t been able to be there for her daughter, eleven years ago. She could at least do this. 

The hand clasped in her own tightened when Whale squeezed out a clear gel onto Belle’s skin. When the scanner, Snow assumed it was called, was pressed against Belle’s skin, she flinched along with her. Whale wasn’t looking at either of them anymore, his attention focused on the screen as he moved the scanner over her skin, pressing in as he watched the black and white screen flicker. After a very long moment of that, during which Belle’s fingernails dug deep into Snow’s hand, he finally stopped, and pressed some buttons on the machine. 

“There we are,” he said, his voice triumphant, as he turned back to look at Belle. Snow had the strangest feeling that this was the first time he’d actually used the machine, outside of his curse memories. He wouldn’t have been so jubilant; his excitement seemed more about the act than what he was showing to his patient.

Snow waited until Belle turned her gaze from Whale’s hand against her skin to the monitor to look as well. There it was, she thought. Enlarged on the screen was what looked very much like the early pregnancy ultrasound pictures they put in magazines, the ones that had only the vaguest shape, and yet still looked like they could actually be something. 

Whale was still doing something to the machine, so she looked down at Belle, whose hand had gone slack in her own. She had her eyes closed, though her head was still turned towards the screen. A lone tear trickled down her cheek towards her ear. Snow reached out with her free hand, and brushed it away. The touch on her face made Belle flinch, but she opened her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Snow asked softly, when Belle looked up at her.

Belle didn’t respond as she turned back to look at the screen. She kept her eyes open this time, as the low pulsing noise of the machine stopped and the image there froze. 

“No,” she whispered. 

“Well,” Whale said, not appearing to notice the way Belle trembled. “That should do it. Based on fetal size and development, you look to be about nine weeks along. Now, you never came in about any of the symptoms of pregnancy, so I don’t know what you have experienced. But, you may find yourself feeling nauseous during the day, or sensitive to smells or tastes. That is normal, though if you do get sick to the point where you can’t keep food or water down, you need to come back in and see me.”

He handed her a box of Kleenex to wipe off the gel off her skin, though Snow noted that Belle didn’t make any move toward it. 

“Everything looks good,” he continued. “You’ll need to come back in a month, so we can follow up. Make sure that you eat, stay hydrated, be careful if you need to lift anything heavy.” He paused, glancing up at Snow, and she realized that the annoying, self-absorbed detachment he had shown since he came in was tempered by barely hidden fear. 

“Now, I know that on top of everything else that has gone on the last few days, this is overwhelming,” he said quietly. “I know you don’t remember any of us, or where you are, or have any reason to trust us. But we’re here to help if you have questions, or if you need someone to talk to.”

Belle said nothing, but she did give a short nod. 

“Alright. Do you have any questions?”

There was a long pause, and when Belle didn’t answer, Whale nodded sharply. “Right, then. Like I said, if you do have any questions, you’re welcome to stop by the clinic any time. We’ll get you set up there for your check up next month.”

Snow watched as he wheeled the cart back out through the curtain, and after the door closed behind him, she looked down at the woman on the bed. 

Belle had tugged down her smock as far as it would go, and Snow could see the remnants of the gel darkening the material. She did not expect that Belle was in any shape to talk, so she simply moved the Kleenex box closer, and the bag with spare clothes. When Belle showed no reaction, Snow squeezed her hand once more and let go, readying herself to leave. 

“We’ll be outside, when you are ready to go. Is there anything else you need?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

All she needed was for this… this… she didn’t even have a word for, but this _thing_ to be over. For these people, and their boxes and their noises and their words to just go away, and leave her alone. Even this woman, this Snow who had been a reassuring presence, needed to go away. She needed to flee, and find some place safe, where she could sort through everything without being watched and poked and prodded with boxes that made pictures of things inside her. She couldn’t think about it. She _refused_ to think about it. Already she was seeing that man in her mind, and now he would never leave her alone. He would never be gone.

She needed to leave.

She didn’t know she’d spoken aloud, until Snow answered. “Just come out when you’re ready. We’ll be there.”

That was what she was afraid of.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to Michanna for the beta :) I hadn't planned to take this long to post this next part, but my master's thesis and work got in the way. Hopefully I'll get the rest of it out sooner!
> 
> There is a small section of dialogue taken from ep. 2x14, "Manhattan."

A half hour went by while Snow and David waited for Belle to emerge from her hospital room. David had asked her, after she'd followed Dr. Whale out, what was wrong, but a brief shake of her head stemmed any further questions. The "not here" that followed silenced Whale, who had looked about to answer his question. Instead they waited, seated on the uncomfortable chairs against the wall and watched as people walked purposefully through the ward. When David reached over and took her hand, she smiled at him and leaned against his shoulder.

The smile faded though, as she looked down at her lap. She fought the urge to rest her own hand on her stomach, much as she had done before. Back when protecting Emma had meant staying healthy and building a nursery, not shooting arrows at ogres. It didn't matter that years had gone by, years of pain and abandonment and ignorance of her own child even after she was right in front of her. Emma was her daughter, and she would never get those years back. She ached, for those years. She ached for Emma. She ached for Belle.

“Did you know her?” David asked, interrupting her thoughts. “Back home, before we met.”

“Only a little.” She shifted in her seat and looked up at him. “Our fathers were friends, I think. Her mother died, and Father brought me with him to Avonlea to pay his respects, and to give her someone to talk to. Someone who had also lost a mother.”

David’s hand tightened around hers, and she loved him for that, more than any words he could have given her. “We didn’t talk much, though. She was quiet, and more often than not, she was in the library or up in a tree, reading. We didn’t keep in touch after. I did hear that she was engaged at one point, before the ogres pressed on the Marchlands. But that was a year or so before Father died. Some knights belonging to her fiancé were passing through hoping to gather more soldiers from our forces, on their way to Avonlea.”

David made a soft noise, of agreement, or confusion, she couldn’t tell. There were so many questions she still had for him, about what happened while she and Emma had been away. Too much had gone on since they’d returned; too much kept her from asking about the little things, like just what was the deal with this young woman and Mr. Gold? Rumplestiltskin. She would need to talk to David, and soon. Regina and Hook were a… distraction, to put it mildly, but it wouldn’t do to forget about the Dark One. Not when he had her daughter with him, and now this.

The door to the hospital room opened. Belle stood there, just inside the waiting room, wearing jeans that were slightly too large and a sweater that she swam in. Her purse and the bag that Snow had packed earlier were clutched protectively in front of her. 

They stood to join her, but before any of them could say anything Whale reappeared holding a chart.

“So you are all set, then, Belle. I have your next appointment scheduled for a month from Monday.” He looked up from the chart, finding but not quite meeting Belle’s gaze. Snow noted that he stayed a respectful distance away from her. He pulled a plastic bottle from his lab coat pocket and held it out to her. “I picked up pre-natal vitamins for you, as well. You should take one a day, and make sure you drink plenty of water.”

David’s hand tightened again on hers, and Snow glanced up at him. “Pre-natal?” he repeated silently, and she nodded, a nearly unnoticeable motion. He paled.

“Do you have any questions?” Whale asked, as Belle just stood there, not taking the bottle that was held out to her. 

They stood there in silence for a long moment, before Belle carefully reached out for the bottle and the small card with her next appointment on it. “No. Thank you,” she said softly.

“Alright then.”

David stepped away from her, gesturing towards the door. “The car is out front, Belle,” he said gallantly. 

Belle frowned, but moved towards him, taking care to stay a few steps away from all of them. 

Snow lingered, following her husband out the door with her eyes. When the wing door shut behind them, she turned and stepped closer to Whale. 

“This is not the business of anyone else, do you understand?” she said softly, looking him straight in the eye. 

Whale had the grace to look discomfited. “I am a doctor, Mary Margaret. A patient’s medical information is privileged.”

“You are a doctor who spent twenty-nine years in Regina’s back pocket. If you tell anyone, _anyone at all_ … If anything happens to her, you should be more concerned about what Rumplestiltskin will do to you than anything she could conceive of. He was known as the Dark One, in our land. For a reason.” She wouldn’t normally use anyone, even Rumplestiltskin, as a threat, but with the safety of her family at stake… She’d made a promise, that Belle would be safe. She would keep it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Of anything in this new world, the car was, at least, familiar. She’d ridden in one with him, from his cluttered shop to the forest. They passed it, his shop, on this journey away from the hospital. It was darker than she remembered it being. They stopped a moment later, and the woman, Snow, turned to look at her. She was pointing off to the left.

“The library is just over there, on that corner. Your apartment is behind it; I thought maybe tomorrow we could go by, see if we could get in to get you your own things?”

She looked where Snow pointed, to a large building with a clock at the top, and the words “Storybrooke Free Public Library” above the doors. She felt nothing. Nothing at all. 

“Alright.”

The car moved again, and she pressed her hand harder against her belly.

Nothing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Snow was at a loss, by that evening. They’d returned to the loft mid-morning, and Snow had shown Belle up the stairs to Emma’s room. She’d told Belle, and David had reiterated later when Belle joined them for lunch, that she was welcome to anything in the apartment. Belle had given an approximation of a smile, thanked each of them, and retreated to Emma’s room in silence.

Despite their houseguest, Snow and David had gone about the rest of their day as normal. She’d gone to the school to finish out the afternoon teaching the handful of students that remained in her class after the curse broke; the rest were pulled out by their parents as they retreated to try and recreate their previous lives. David was still filling in as sheriff for Emma, though the dwarves were assisting there as well. It wasn’t until after dinner that they could pick up their conversation from the hospital, and even then, Snow kept one ear on the upstairs. She hated gossip, she really did, but David needed to know.

They were washing the last of the dinner plates when David nonchalantly commented, “So she’s pregnant.”

Snow nodded, running the kitchen towel over a glass. “Yep.”

“Does he know?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think that he would have left her, whether she remembered him or not, if he knew. And if she suspected anything, she didn’t mention it while we were putting the children’s section together at the library.”

He shut off the water and turned, leaning back against the sink to watch her. He crossed his arms, and Snow suddenly remembered seeing him stand that way when they first met. He was confident, again. Something he hadn’t been in those last months of the curse.

“Should we tell him?”

“He’ll have to know, eventually.” She busied herself folding up the damp dish towel and setting it aside. She looked around the otherwise empty room. There was no sign that anyone else was there, not even noise from above. “But not now. Not until they are back from New York.”

“And if that takes a while?”

She met his gaze, and was relieved to see the same fear that she felt mirrored there. “We’ll see how it goes.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Belle had joined them for a quiet breakfast before David left for the sheriff’s station. Much like dinner the night before, she said little except when spoken too, though she was polite, and then vanished back up the stairs once more. Her loft felt as empty to Snow as it had before Emma had arrived in Storybrooke, once David had packed up his lunch and left. She still had a few hours before she needed to be at the school, but it was Angelina’s day to work on math with students, so she wasn’t in much of a rush.

She was grading papers, trying hard not to laugh at the silly sentences her students had written, when her phone rang. Her quick glance at the caller ID had her scrambling to answer it, her thumb skidding across the screen twice before she managed it. 

“Emma!”

She got up from the table and moved to her slightly more private bedroom. Not that it mattered, the phone ringing caused no reaction from above that she could hear.

“How’s New York? Have you had any luck?”

“Mary Margaret?”

There was something off in Emma’s voice, she could hear it. She sat down on the bed, harder than she intended, and bounced a little on it. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

Her daughter didn’t answer right away. All she could hear was panting, like she was gasping for air. “Emma? What’s going on, are you ok? Is Henry?”

“Mary Margaret… Shit… Oh, shit shit shit…” 

Snow could hear traffic in the background, and the panic in her voice, and wished more than anything that she’d gone with them. Whatever was wrong, Emma should not be alone.

“Emma, talk to me. What’s going on? Are you hurt? Did Rumplestiltskin hurt you?”

“No… Uh… Oh, shit.” 

What followed was an outpouring of words greater than any she had ever heard from Emma, whether it was before the curse broke, or when they were back in their world. It took nearly until when Emma had finally run out of words for them to make any sense to her. If Snow hadn’t already been sitting down, her knees would surely have given out. 

“Wait, Gold’s son is Henry’s father?”

“I know, I know! And the millions of questions you have, I have too. The problem is, it doesn’t matter right now because I don’t know what to do.”

Oh, Emma… “Please, tell me you aren’t calling to ask me to tell you to keep it from him.”

“Henry thinks his father is dead. I told him that for a reason, I want to protect him.”

“No matter what this man did, Henry has a right to know who his father is.” Snow couldn’t stop herself from looking up towards Emma’s room. “The truth about your parents… Emma, you of all people should know how important that is.”

“I don’t want Henry to get hurt. I just want to protect him.”

“Are you sure this is just about protecting Henry, and not yourself?”

She shouldn’t be sitting here in Storybrooke, having this conversation with Emma. She should be there, in New York. She should be with her. It wasn’t fair that none of them could leave, except for the one person who do more harm to her family than Regina ever could. 

She heard footsteps, and other noise in the background. “Emma?”

“Sorry… sorry, trying to cross the street and traffic’s being a bitch.” 

Snow listened to Emma’s mutterings for a few minutes, as it seemed like Emma was walking again. Her own thoughts were racing with these new implications, and she found herself wishing, just for an instant, for the relative simplicity of life under the curse. Finally, there was a soft thud and Emma’s attention returned to the phone call.

“Mary Margaret?”

“I’m still here. Where are you?”

“A couple of streets away. Found a small park.” Emma let out a heavy breath. “How is this my life? I mean, seriously! My parents are Snow White and Prince Charming, and my son’s father is the son of Rumplestiltskin. This is insane. You know how insane this is, right?

Her mouth twisted into some semblance of a smile, Snow shrugged. “I know. If it weren’t my life, I’d think it was at least a little crazy.”

Emma was quiet for a few minutes; Snow listened to her breathe as she walked to the window that looked out towards the small harbor. 

“How are things there? Regina causing any trouble?”

Snow pursed her lips. “It’s fine, here,” she answered finally. Emma would have to know eventually that the giant was here, and that they had a way back to Snow’s world, but that could wait. 

“Really? That’s a surprise.”

“She isn’t happy that you took Henry with you, but she hasn’t caused any trouble so far.” She heard a faint noise from upstairs, and bit her lip. “There is something else,” she said eventually. “Don’t tell anyone, not yet, but I think you should know.”

“Know what?”

Snow glanced behind her, to make sure that she was truly alone. “Belle’s pregnant,” she said, her voice low. 

“She’s what?”

“Pregnant. She could leave the hospital yesterday, so we brought her here. She found out before we left.”

“Well. Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“Who knows?”

“You, me. David. Belle, of course. Whale and Jiminy.” 

“What about Regina?”

“Not that I know of. Whale… knows what Rumplestiltskin would do if she’s hurt again, so I don’t think he will say anything. Yet, anyway.”

“Is she ok?”

Snow turned to lean against the windowsill, her eyes focusing on the staircase. “I don’t know. She hasn’t really said much sent we brought her here, just stayed up in your room unless we are eating.”

“At least she’s eating, that’s something.”

“Yeah.” 

“Does she remember anything?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Huh.”

“Emma… I don’t think he should know about Belle. Not yet.”

Her daughter let out a very unlady-like snort, and Snow held in a laugh. “You know you just told me not to keep Neal a secret, right?”

Neal. Snow filed that name away for later. “I know… I know it’s hypocritical, I do, but he’ll find out soon enough. Let him focus on his son, and then you’ll come home, and he and Belle can… I don’t know, figure something out. Maybe he’ll have enough incentive now to finally find a way to get rid of the curse memories.”

“Maybe…” Emma didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Alright, I won’t say anything. For now.”

“Alright,” Snow agreed. 

“I should… I should go. It’s going to be hard enough lying to Gold; if I stay away any longer, it’ll never work.”

“Ok. Be careful.”

“Yeah. You too.” Emma paused, long enough that Snow nearly said something to fill the silence. “Bye.”

“I…” was all that Snow was able to get out before the connection ended. “love you,” she finished in a whisper. 

With a sigh, she set her phone down and made her way up to the closed bedroom door. She knocked. “Belle?”

She heard a faint shuffling, but the door did not open nor was there a response. 

“I just wanted to let you know, I have to go to work in a few minutes. I should be back in a few hours, and I thought we could go by the library then?”

She waited, perhaps longer than she would have otherwise, but there was no sign that Belle had even heard her. She wrung her hands and turned away. She had to get to work.


End file.
